Affection and the Amiable Man

7/30/2019 Affection and the Amiable Man

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Affection and the Amiable Man

Stuart M. Tave http://www.questia.com/read/98105523?title=Jane%20Austen's%20Pride%20and%20Prejudice

The first time Elizabeth Bennet sees Mr. Darcy, before they have ever spoken to each other,he mortifies her. It is the beginning of their action. His character has been decided already, byall the principal people in the room; Bingley has such amiable qualities as must speak forthemselves, but—what a contrast between him and his friend!— Darcy is the proudest, mostdisagreeable man in the world. Before the action ends Elizabeth will have to discover that thisis a really amiable man, to whom she must give her affection. She will have to define thedifferences between the agreeable and the amiable and to define the foundations of affection;and he will have to become worthy of that process of painful definition. It will be a mortifyingexperience for both of them. Elizabeth has wit and intelligence, a mind that runs with rapidplay and liveliness. She finds life more amusing than others do because she is superior indiscernment and abilities, so quick in observation and decisive in judgment at the f irstinterview; she will discover a slower and seemingly "less interesting mode" far moreinteresting, more full of real life.

It will be a long time before she can say of Darcy that he is an "amiable" man, because it is along time before she knows what the word means. It is a word that can be used lightly, as shehas been using it, but not by those who weigh their words. Before Frank Churchill comes toHighbury Emma and Mr. Knightley are arguing about him and the argument, as Mr. Knightleyattempts unsuccessfully to give it some precision, turns upon a definition. Emma has calledFrank "an amiable young man." Not only is she unacquainted with him but she is, when sheuses the phrase, offering a general proposition about a young man of a certain type; to Mr.Knightley it is a weak, indecisive type. There is in some weak people an amiability that is aninactive, docile good temper; it is what Mr. Woodhouse has and Isabella, the daughter who ismore like him; it is the kind of thing Captain Wentworth finds in Henrietta Musgrove and,when he knows her faults better, in Louisa.But that is not what Mr. Knightley means by realamiability. Nor is it quite what Emma meant, who had something more agreeable in mind and,without realizing it, something more dangerous. Emma is surprised at the heat of the reactionshe has provoked in Mr. Knightley, for several reasons, but she had spoken the word casually,as a conventional epithet of praise. It had pervaded the fiction of the late eighteenth century,densely populated by "amiable," "more than amiable," and "most amiable" heroines andheroes.

Some awareness of this novelistic jargon adds a delight to a reading of Jane Austen's juvenilia,because it adds force to the parodic use of the word. One meets an absurdly endless numberof amiable characters, like the landlady of the little alehouse in Evelyn, "who as well as everyone else in Evelyn was remarkably amiable"; one meets characters who are, over and over,"the amiable Rebecca" (notwithstanding her forbidding squint, greasy tresses, and swellingback). Part of the joke of the "History of England" is the application of the novelistic adjectiveto kings, queens, and entire realms, with a scholarly exactness: in the reign of Charles I ("Thisamiable Monarch") "never were amiable men so scarce. The number of them throughout thewhole Kingdom amounting only to five ." The historian herself may be partial, prejudiced, andignorant but we must take confidence in the value of the History from her own assurance thatshe is "my no less amiable self." If we are told, in one of these early pieces, that a character isamiable we know it to be perfect: "perfectly amiable," like the young man who was addicted tono vice (beyond what his age and situation rendered perfectly excusable). It is a happy thingto hear in a young lady's account of her education that "I daily became more amiable, & mightperhaps by this time have nearly attained perfection." The progress of the young CatherineMorland, from an unsuccessful romantic heroine to a rather more sensible observer of humanity, can be traced: from her beginning point, when she was surprised that she hadreached the age of seventeen "without having seen one amiable youth who could call forth hersensibility"; through her exceeding love for Isabella, as she swallows whole James Morland's



estimate of that "thoroughly unaffected and amiable . . . most amiable girl"; to the end pointwhere she can clear General Tilney from her grossly injurious suspicions of villainy and still beable to believe, upon serious consideration, that he is "not perfectly amiable." The charmingAugusta Hawkins, before she is ever seen by Highbury, is discovered to have everyrecommendation of person and mind, to be handsome, elegant, highly accomplished, and, itfollows by the formula that denotes not a real person but a fiction, "perfectly amiable." Thevapid amiable character, familiar to Jane Austen and no danger to her from her earliest years,remained a staple product of novelists and it was one of the dangers she had to mark out forthat beginning author, young Anna Austen. A character in Anna's manuscript is at firstinteresting to Jane Austen "in spite of her being so amiable," obviously an unusualaccomplishment; but Anna could not maintain that pitch, so, in a second letter, her aunt losesinterest in that character and finds still another who worries her: "I am afraid [he] will be toomuch in the common Novel style—a handsome, amiable, unexceptionable Young Man (such asdo not much abound in real Life)."

To stupid Mr. Collins, a self-conscious master of complimentary terminology that has not muchto do with real life, the word is a valuable all-purpose superlative. Miss De Bourgh, he rapidlyinforms the Bennets, is "perfectly amiable," though the details of her he has offered bearanother tale. His cousin Elizabeth, as he tells her with clocklike solemnity during his proposal,also qualifies for the word, though, as he also assures her, there are many other amiableyoung women in his own neighborhood; and when he transfers his affections to Charlotte hetransfers the word as easily. What is more amusing is that in Elizabeth's difficult brief period,following her rejection of Mr. Collins, Charlotte seems to her to be "very amiable" in acceptinghis attentions; she is thankful to her friend Charlotte for this obliging kindness. Elizabeth hassomething to learn about amiability. It is something important enough to consider in multipleillustration because it keeps returning in almost all of Jane Austen's writing. To Mr. Knightley itis a point of reality that helps define the national character.

What Elizabeth has to learn is important, because there is a true amiability, not an insipidfictive perfection that offers itself for immediate admiration but a reality that frequently takestime to disclose itself or to be discovered by an observer who is unable to see it. An intelligentyoung woman, unlike a romantic heroine, will not meet much perfection in her experience butshe may well make mistakes in understanding what is more difficult: the difference betweenthose who are truly "amiable" and those who are only "agreeable." That is "an important

distinction," Dr. Gregory warned his daughters, "which many of your sex are not aware of" ( AFather's Legacy to His Daughters, 1774, and many later editions, into the nineteenth century). Jane Austen makes the distinction in two of her letters, writing about the same young man:first in a passing observation to her sister Cassandra, and then, more than a year later, toFanny Knight, on a critical occasion, which validates the large significance of the words. Mr.

John Plumtre, she tells Cassandra, is someone she likes very much: "He gives me the idea of a very amiable young Man, only too diffident to be so agreeable as he might be." He is lackingin the social manner that would make him complete but a completeness cannot be expectedoften, and when there are choices to be made it is always the amiable that is to be chosen.Mr. Plumtre then attaches himself to Fanny Knight and Fanny encourages him until she f indsthat perhaps she has mistaken her own feelings; Jane Austen, as her aunt, tries to give herthe best possible advice, not telling her what to do, but clarifying for her what the alternativesare. There is a strong case to be made for Mr. Plumtre, "above all his character—hisuncommonly amiable mind, strict principles, just notions, good habits . . . All that really is of

the first importance." His manners are not equal to this excellence, but a comparison betweenhim and Fanny's own "agreeable, idle Brothers" will show Fanny that it is Mr. Plumtre who hasthe sterling worth. He is not perfect, because he has a fault of modesty, and if he were lessmodest "he would be more agreeable, speak louder & look Impudenter," but it is a finecharacter of which this is the only defect. The conclusion is not that Fanny should marry him—and we'll come back to Mr. Plumtre—but her aunt's advice will lead her to understand herchoices and enable her to decide for the right reasons, not reject a man of uncommonlyamiable mind and all that is really of the first importance because she thinks it more importantthat the man be agreeable.



If agreeable men are likely to be suspect characters in Jane Austen there is good cause. Theiragreeableness might be an initial value but it would improve upon acquaintance and reveal themind, principles, notions, and habits that make the moral character, so that the agreeablenessof manner and person would not remain the most notable quality. Mr. Elliot of Persuasion isthat "exceedingly agreeable man," who makes his impression even before his identity isknown, who is, in his regard for Anne, a source of agreeable sensation to her; he is offered asa suitable match. "Where could you expect a more gentlemanlike, agreeable man?" But wellbefore she learns the full story of his life Anne has real doubts because she can never findanything more in him. "Mr. Elliot was too generally agreeable," deliberately pleases evenwhere he is contemptuous: even Mrs. Clay "found him as agreeable as anybody," a note inpassing that makes the ending of the novel less surprising and more enjoyable. HenryCrawford is more interesting because he is a man who makes an effort to change himself tosomething better, from "the most agreeable young man" the Miss Bertrams had ever known toa man deserving of the affection of an amiable woman. There is much byplay at MansfieldPark about the mutual agreeableness of the Crawfords and the young Bertrams and even SirThomas is impressed by Henry's "more than common agreeableness," the address andconversation pleasing to everyone. Mrs. Price at Portsmouth "had never seen so agreeable aman in her life." It will take more than this to win Fanny but she sees in his visit toPortsmouth that there are ways in which he really is acting differently. In his account of wherehe has been and what he has been doing there is more than the "accidental agreeableness" of the parties he has been in; he has done good work in performing a duty, for the first time,among the tenants of his estate, thereby securing "agreeable recollections for his own mind";that is certainly a better kind of agreeableness than he has ever known. She sees that he ismuch more gentle, obliging, and attentive to other people's feelings than he had ever been atMansfield: "she had never seen him so agreeable—so near being agreeable." Fanny is usingthe lower word in her own high sense, because he is now near being amiable, and she ismaking a fine distinction; but she is right, because the good impulse now moving Henry willnot be enough. He lacks the principle to maintain the habit of right action. His moral charactercannot rise above the agreeable manner. His story ends when he goes to the house of thefamily at Twickenham where Maria has grown intimate — a family of lively, "agreeablemanners, and probably of morals and discretion to suit," for to that house Henry had constantaccess at all times. What he threw away when he entered that accessible house was the wayof happiness, working for the esteem and tenderness that leads to "one amiable woman'saffections."

To recognize the one amiable woman, or man, is the first simple perception in making amarriage. In fact few can do it. The lady for whom Willoughby has jilted Marianne is very rich,Elinor learns, but what Elinor wants to know is what kind of woman she is: "Is she said to beamiable?" That is the question because it will determine what can be said for him and what arehis chances of happiness, but it was never a question that touched his mind. Edward Ferrars isa better man because the question did concern him, but he had not been able to answer it:Lucy Steele had been successful with him because she "appeared everything that was amiableand obliging." She was not really so, as Elinor has always known, and the mistake he madecould have been ruinous in time. The perception of a real amiability requires time. Mrs.Dashwood is correct in her opinion of Edward but her opinion is without much meaning: "Itwas enough for her that he appeared to be amiable"; to say that he is unlike Fanny Dashwoodis enough: "It implies every thing amiable. I love him already." Elinor's measured answer isthe right one: " 'I think you will like him,' said Elinor, 'when you know more of him,' " because

time and knowledge measure possible degrees and truths of feeling. If, therefore, Edward hadmarried Lucy he would have entered a future of great peril. The man who marries anunamiable woman may be made unhappy, but that is not the worst; if he falls in with hermanner he may be happy, but he will become an unworthy man. It happened to JohnDashwood, who "had he married a more amiable woman" might have improved, "might evenhave been made amiable himself," for he was very young when he married and very fond of his wife; but Mrs. John Dashwood was a caricature of himself, more narrow ‐ minded andselfish. It happened to Mr. Elton. Emma recognizes that when she sees him as an old marriedman, to use his own phrase, deliberately hurting Harriet while smiles of high glee passbetween him and his wife. "This was Mr. Elton! the amiable, obliging, gentle Mr. Elton." He is



not quite so hardened as his wife but he is growing very like her. There is a littleness abouthim that Emma had not discovered.

Emma's discovery is a long time in coming because the ability to recognize an amiable man isdependent on the ability to perceive with a moral clarity of definition. Harriet can look forwardto being happily married to Mr. Elton, Emma assures her, because "here is a man whoseamiable character gives every assurance of it." With the advantage of her long intimacy withMiss Taylor Emma should be able to recognize a "truly amiable woman"; but if she can thensay of Harriet that she has never met with a disposition "more truly amiable" the word canhave no real meaning for her. She finds Harriet very amiable because of that early and easydeference to herself. Emma cannot distinguish the amiable from the agreeable, uses the wordsindiscriminately. She has no doubt she has given Harriet's fancy a proper direction when shemakes her aware that Mr. Elton is a "remarkably handsome man, with most agreeablemanners"; but that is also the language of the talkative Miss Nash, head teacher at Mrs.Goddard's, telling Harriet that beyond a doubt Mr. Elton has not his equal "for beauty oragreeableness." The question Emma puts to Harriet about Robert Martin is precisely the wrongone: "if you think him the most agreeable man you have ever been in company with, whyshould you hesitate?" The intention of the question, as she points out, is to put another maninto Harriet's mind, and it is successful, unfortunately. But it takes a blunt John Knightley topoint out an obvious truth: "I never . . . saw a man more intent on being agreeable than Mr.Elton"; Emma has been willing to overlook the labor and the affectation and the working of every feature because it fits her pleasure to think he is a man of good will. Only after he hasastonished her by his proposal does she judge him "not . . . so particularly amiable," becauseat that point it is a great consolation to think so.

Emma needs the agreeable so that she can continue to be comfortable, think a little too wellof herself, create her own world without being disturbed by examining it or herself too closely.It is Mr. Knightley, angry with her for misguiding Harriet, who prompts her better self bymaking things uncomfortable and being "very disagreeable." It is he who gives her hints thatshe is being neglectful in not visiting the Bateses, not contributing to their scanty comforts,and some hints have come from her own heart—but none is equal to counteract thepersuasion of its all being "very disagreeable." When she does call on them, with Harriet, it isnot to bring comfort to them but to get rid of what is now the more tiresome subject of Mr.Elton.

The mistake with the agreeable Mr. Elton also makes her rejoice in the coming of FrankChurchill; she hopes to find him agreeable. It was the hope that she was defending againstMr. Knightley when she elicited his critical definition. She has called Frank amiable, but Mr.Knightley makes the distinction for her: "Your amiable young man," if he has not beenfollowing his duty instead of consulting expediency, "is a very weak young man." The youngman writes fine flourishing letters but he has never exerted himself to pay the proper attentionto his father and especially to Mrs. Weston, upon their marriage, so that he has all theexternal manner and none of the reality of action: "No, Emma, your amiable young man canbe amiable only in French, not in English. He may be very 'aimable,' have very good manners,and be very agreeable; but he can have no English delicacy towards the feelings of otherpeople: nothing really amiable about him." But those smooth, plausible manners will beenough, Emma says, to make him a treasure at Highbury, where "We do not often look uponfine young men, well-bred and agreeable"; we must not be nice and ask for virtue too. Heridea of him is that he can adapt his conversation to the taste of everybody and "has the poweras well as the wish of being universally agreeable." If he is anything like this he will beinsupportable, Mr. Knightley says. But when Frank arrives Emma's vanity gives him everysupport. She is directly sure that "he knew how to make himself agreeable," as he certainlydoes; he talks of Highbury as his own country and says he has had the greatest curiosity tovisit: that he should "never have been able to indulge so amiable a feeling before" passessuspiciously through Emma's brain, but it passes. She only feels that he is agreeable and therest must wait. The danger to her of the man who knows how to make himself agreeable butwho is not amiable multiplies as the story progresses. He even arrives at the point where he issick of England, which means that in self ‐ pity he is prepared to run from the obligations he



owes to the feelings of others. He is, Mr. Knightley had guessed correctly, a weak young man;on the day at Box Hill Jane Fairfax has come to recognize that fact and recognize that hetherefore puts his own happiness at the mercy of chance, and hers too. For Emma the moraldangers are even greater because she is readily susceptible to, desirous of, his agreeablenessand blind to the rest. In the climactic two hours at Box Hill, when to amuse her "and beagreeable in her eyes" seems all he cares for, Emma is ignorant of his motives and is not sorryto be flattered. As the pitch of the scene rises, in response to his lead Emma loses self-command and insults Miss Bates, pains her, is herself unfeeling. There is an extraordinarypathos and irony when Miss Bates can only reply, "I must make myself very disagreeable, orshe would not have said such a thing to an old friend."

The really amiable man, Mr. Knightley teaches us, is the man who is strong in his actionbecause fine in his emotion, who habitually exerts himself to do his duty because he has adelicacy for the feelings of others. He will be a man capable of love and worthy of love. Thehappiness of Elizabeth Bennet turns upon her ability to recognize the really amiable man; oneway of marking her fortunes and progress is to follow her accuracy in assigning the rightadjective to the right man and all that it implies of quality of vision. Darcy, we have said,enters the novel with a character quickly determined by the assembly room at the first ball,when his fine person and fortune draw admiration and then, just as quickly, his manners givea disgust. He is discovered to have "a most forbidding, disagreeable countenance." "He wasthe proudest, most disagreeable man in the world." The immediate contrast is between himand Bingley, whose "amiable qualities must speak for themselves": Bingley soon makeshimself acquainted with all the principal people in the room, is lively and unreserved, dancesevery dance, talks of giving a dance himself at Netherfield.The evidence on either side ishardly existent and Elizabeth will have to do better than all the principal people. She will haveto do so in spite of the man himself, in spite of herself, and of their mutually disagreeableintroduction. Bingley tries to interest Darcy in Elizabeth as someone very pretty "and I daresay, very agreeable," but he is not tempted. To her Darcy is then "only the man who madehimself agreeable no where, and who had not thought her handsome enough to dance with."When, some weeks later, he does ask her to dance she is surprised into accepting him and shefrets. "I dare say you will find him very agreeable," says Charlotte, with a small echo. "Heavenforbid!— That would be the greatest misfortune of all!—To find a man agreeable whom one isdetermined to hate!—Do not wish me such an evil."

Bingley, it does develop, is "truly amiable," as Elizabeth later calls him; but even at the timeshe says that she doesn't know enough of him, and her opinion is still to undergo changes,because Bingley's is a soft amiability that makes him dependent on chance, susceptible tointerference by others with his own happiness and therefore with the feelings of the woman heloves. More importantly, Elizabeth's praise of Bingley is offered to emphasize the contrastbetween him and Darcy and it is delivered to Wickham for that purpose. In response toWickham's questioning the very first thing she had said of Darcy was "I think him verydisagreeable." For that reason she is ready to accept Wickham's story and to think of Darcy ascruel, malicious, unjust, inhumane. Wickham himself she trusts: he is a young man, she saysto herself, "whose very countenance may vouch for your being amiable"; and if she thinks of herself as a better judge of character than Jane, she has done no better than Jane will do thenext day: "it was not in her nature to question the veracity of a young man of such amiableappearance as Wickham." Jane's less confident nature at least preserves her from Elizabeth'serror of deciding the matter against Darcy.More than that, Jane has a good reason for

suspending judgment for it is difficult to believe that an intimate friend like Bingley can be sodeceived in Darcy's character. The very thought had just occurred to Elizabeth as she listenedto Wickham and declared Bingley's amiability but, like several other true thoughts that hadcome and gone, it did her no good. She is not in love with Wickham, she tells Mrs. Gardiner,"But he is, beyond all comparison, the most agreeable man I ever saw," and the possibility of affection interests her. For all her superior intelligence Elizabeth is more blind than Jane. WhenJane thinks that Bingley has departed from her life she has the steadiness not to repinethough he "may live in my memory as the most amiable man of my acquaintance." WhenElizabeth parts from Wickham, who may now be marrying Miss King, she is convinced that "hemust always be her model of the amiable and pleasing." Only Jane has any evidence of the



real character of the man she is talking about and Elizabeth has confused the most agreeableman with the model of the amiable. Jane has been crossed in love by the loss of Bingley,which gives her, says Mr. Bennet, a sort of distinction: "Let Wickham be your man." "Thankyou, Sir," Elizabeth replies, "but a less agreeable man would satisfy me." He would and hedoes. What she has still to discover is the identity and amiability of that less agreeable man.

Where Wickham has been able to deceive her by false information he has done what he could.As he was maligning Darcy he was also shaking his head over Miss Darcy, professing painbecause he could not call her "amiable"—but she was too like her brother in being very, veryproud; some months later, in Derbyshire, Elizabeth is prepared to see a "proud, reserved,disagreeable girl," then finds that Miss Darcy is "amiable and unpretending." But Wickham'sability to mislead her where she has never seen the object of his lies is a small thing. Thegreat humiliation is the discovery that she has believed all he says of Darcy because she hasbeen pleased by his preference and offended by Darcy's neglect, therefore courtedprepossession and ignorance and driven reason away. The discovery she makes in the receiptof Darcy's letter is less in the new information he offers than in a self ‐ discovery that allowsher to see what has always been before her. What she now begins to comprehend is a realityto which she has blinded herself because the appearance was so much more pleasing. Thatagreeableness, that false amiability of Wickham, had been a charm: it was a countenance, avoice, a manner; as to his "real character" she had never felt a wish of inquiring. She triesnow to find some moral reality in her recollection of him, "some instance of goodness," sometrait of integrity or benevolence, virtue; she can see him instantly before her in every charm of air and address, but she can remember no "substantial good" beyond the general approbationof the neighborhood or the regard that his social powers had gained him.

The substantial good evaporates as one seeks it in Wickham; as it does in Willoughby, with hisuncommonly attractive person and lively manner, which it was no merit to possess; as it doesin Mr. Elliot when Anne finds him sensible and agreeable but is still afraid to answer for hisconduct. Anne has her own reasons for prizing a man of more warmth and enthusiasm, butthe truth about Mr. Elliot's real character, that he has no feeling for others, is the truth aboutall the very well-mannered and very agreeable young men who, in Mr. Knightley's distinction,have no delicacy toward the feelings of other people, nothing really amiable about them. Theycan separate their agreeableness from their feeling, so that the pleasing sensations they offerturn terribly chilling. To miss the distinction, then, to be drawn to the agreeable, is shocking,

is both an easy and a dangerous temptation, because it is to fall into that pleasing sensationof the unreality that flatters the self. The agreeable imitation of feeling becomes the instantwelcome deception. But the real feeling of the amiable man expressing the principle of a lifecan be known only by the evidences of an earned experience. It may be hard to find thatreality, when its appearance is not readily pleasing, and to acknowledge it, howeverdisagreeable to the self.

It was this reality Elizabeth had denied Darcy, as she rejected him and grew more angry andtold him directly, in the last sentence that drove him from the room: his manners impressedher with "the fullest belief of your arrogance, your conceit, and your selfish disdain of thefeelings of others." As she begins to make the discovery about her blindness she remembersthat she has often heard Darcy speak "so affectionately of his sister as to prove him capable of some amiable feeling." It is a minimal fact but it has meaning as it follows a new realization of his character—that however proud and repulsive his manners, her acquaintance has given heran intimacy with Darcy's ways and she has never seen anything that betrayed him to beunprincipled or unjust, anything that spoke of irreligious or immoral habits. It has meaning asit precedes her new realization that had his actions been what Wickham represented them,there could be no friendship between anyone capable of those actions and "such an amiableman as Mr. Bingley." She realizes now, when she receives his letter, that she has no evidenceto bring against him; as she learns more of the history of his life, when she visits his home,she learns more positively what his behavior has been as child and man. Mrs. Reynolds cantestify to his goodness of disposition and to his goodness of action as landlord to tenant and asmaster to servant. It is a new light on his character. "In what an amiable light does this placehim!" Elizabeth thinks, ". . . so amiable a light." But above all she then knows by his conduct



to her, who has given him such cause to be an enemy, his capacity for love. She questionshim at the end of the story, wanting him to account for having ever fallen in love with her,when her behavior to him had been at least always bordering on the uncivil and when shenever spoke to him without rather wishing to give him pain: "Had you not been really amiableyou would have hated me for it." He knew no "actual good" of her, she adds; but in fact hedid, certainly in her "affectionate behavior" to Jane in need. They are both of them people whoare capable of actual good, of affection, really amiable, worthy of love. She knows what he hasdone for her and her family. By the time Darcy has made his second proposal Elizabeth haslearned enough of him and his family to be able to answer her father's doubts of that proud,unpleasant man: "'I do, I do like him,' she replied, with tears in her eyes. 'I love him. Indeedhe has no improper pride. He is perfectly amiable.'" It is astonishing praise, and a daringphrase for Elizabeth to use. It is a sign of the pressure of feeling upon her, because her earliermisjudgments and immoderate expressions have forced her into this awkwardness, that sheshould be so extravagant as to use a kind of novelistic jargon; and it is a sign of Darcy's realexcellence that he does not sink under the weight of it. He really is amiable.

The accomplishment of amiability is unusual; it is earned by moral and intelligent effort and itcannot be distributed sentimentally as a reward. The narrator wishes it could be said that Mrs.Bennet's accomplishment of her earnest desire in marrying off her daughters produced sohappy an effect as to make her "a sensible, amiable, well-informed woman"; but that couldnot be, and perhaps it was lucky for her husband, who might not have relished domesticfelicity in so unusual a form.

The form in which domestic felicity comes to Elizabeth and Darcy is unusual and it is there notby luck. It comes, first, because both are amiable and that is a necessary foundation, but itcomes because on that is built something more. Above all, as Elizabeth knows, there must belove, or to use the word Jane Austen prefers in such contexts, there must be "affection." It isthe quieter, more general word, for an emotion of slower growth and more lasting therefor;but it is, in this context, a strong word for a deep emotion. It is the word Emma uses at themoment of her insight into her own heart when she is ashamed of every sensation but one,"her affection for Mr. Knightley"; it is the word Anne Elliot uses to describe her feelings forCaptain Wentworth, when he is once again desirous of her affection: "her affection would behis for ever." It is, in general, Jane Austen's chiefest instance of how without the appropriateemotion there is no moral action; specifically it is the love that every marriage must have and

without which no married life can stand. Elizabeth Bennet's closest friend calls it into seriousquestion, both in talk and in action, with grave result both for herself and for Elizabeth.

To Charlotte affection is of no importance, except as an appearance that may be useful forgetting a husband. She has advice for Jane Bennet, who is very much on the way to being inlove but whose composure and cheerfulness do not disclose her real strength of feeling; heradvice has nothing to do with the needs of that reality and of the particular characters of Janeand Bingley, for Charlotte's concern is the general method of exploiting the opportunity to fix aman by helping him on with a show of affection. "In nine cases out often, a woman had bettershew more affection than she feels." The love may or may not follow the marriage, but if itdoes it is a casual supplementary decision that does not require any thought or feeling. "Whenshe is secure of him, there will be leisure for falling in love as much as she chuses." In a word,affection has no real existence for Charlotte. The minor practicality of her advice is that she isright about Bingley's need for encouragement, but she would apply that to any man becausethe larger need of understanding one's own thoughts and feelings and a mutual understandingof character is what she denies in marriage. The time needed for a developed love ismeaningless. To marry tomorrow, to marry after studying character for a twelvemonth, is allthe same. "Happiness in marriage is entirely a matter of chance." Knowledge does notadvance felicity and it is better to know as little as possible of the defects of the person withwhom you are to pass your life. Elizabeth refuses to take her seriously, finds the opinionlaughable because it is not sound, because Charlotte knows it is not sound and becauseCharlotte would never act in that way herself. But Charlotte acts precisely in that way.



him feel almost secure of her—and now her feelings have changed. It was a common mistake,her aunt comforts her, one that thousands of women fall into: he was the f irst young man whoattached himself to her and that was a powerful charm. Furthermore, unlike most who havedone the same, Fanny Knight has little to regret, because the young man is nothing to beashamed of. Jane Austen then goes on to point out all his excellences—his mind, hisprinciples, and all qualities which, as she says, are really of the first importance; the more shewrites about him the warmer her feelings grow and the more strongly she feels the sterlingworth of such a young man and the desirableness of Fanny's growing in love with him again.She takes up certain objections that Fanny has to him and tries to show her that they arefalse, that what her niece thinks are faults in him are really unimportant or even advantages.At that point, after such a lengthy, thoughtful, and feeling argument on behalf of the youngman, Jane Austen puts into the other side of the balance the one thing that outweighseverything else:

—And now, my dear Fanny, having written so much on one side of the question, I shall turnround & entreat you not to commit yourself farther, & not to think of accepting him unless youreally do like him. Anything is to be preferred or endured rather than marrying withoutAffection; and if his deficiencies of Manner &c &c strike you more than all his good qualities, if you continue to think strongly of them, give him up at once.

To return, then, f rom Jane Austen's "my dear Fanny" to Elizabeth Bennet's "my dearCharlotte" and Jane Bennet's "my dear Lizzy" (as they are all addressed in moments of similarcrisis): when Elizabeth receives her second proposal from Darcy and accepts him, she seemsto the intelligent members of her family, to her father and Jane, to be in a situation similar toCharlotte's when Charlotte accepted Mr. Collins. The similarity is emphasized by a verbalidentity. Elizabeth's astonishment had been so great when Charlotte informed her of theengagement to Collins that she could not help crying out, "Engaged to Mr. Collins! ...impossible!" When Elizabeth is engaged and opens her heart to Jane, the reaction is,untypically for Jane but understandably so, absolute incredulity: "engaged to Mr. Darcy! . . .impossible." Jane's disbelief, unlike Elizabeth's reaction to Charlotte's match, is not that shethinks Darcy without a single quality to make him a desirable husband; on the contrary,nothing could give Bingley or Jane more delight than such a marriage. But she thought itimpossible because of Elizabeth's dislike, and even now she cannot approve, however greatand desirable it seems, if Elizabeth does not really love him quite well enough. The appeal is

direct and deep, and very like Jane Austen's words to Fanny Knight: "Oh, Lizzy! do any thingrather than marry without affection. Are you quite sure that you feel what you ought to do?"So the answer to the question of what Charlotte Lucas ought to do rather than marry Mr.Collins is—"any thing." To be an impoverished old maid is a misfortune, but to marry Mr.Collins is immoral.

Nor is it true that because she has not made the romantic choice, Charlotte has made thepractical choice for the comfortable home. The antithesis is false. She had said, in general,that happiness is entirely a matter of chance and she says, in particular, that considering whatCollins is, in character, connections, and situation, her chance of happiness with him is as fairas most people can boast on entering the marriage state. But her chances are not evenuncertain. That point emerges most convincingly because Charlotte makes the very best of hermarriage state and manages it admirably. Elizabeth thinks that it will be impossible for herfriend to be tolerably happy but in her visit to Kent she sees how well Charlotte can do.Charlotte maintains her comfortable home and her married life by excluding her husband fromit as much as she possibly can. She chooses for her own common use an inferior room with aless lively view because he is less likely to appear in it; Elizabeth gives her credit for thearrangement. She encourages her husband as much as possible in his gardening, to keep himout of the house. When he says something of which she might reasonably be ashamed, whichcertainly is not seldom, she sometimes blushes faintly, but in general she wisely does nothear. The necessary wisdom for living with Mr. Collins, which Charlotte accepts, is to give up apiece of herself, suppress her shame, lose her ears, see less, diminish her life. As Elizabethleaves her, at the end of the visit, Charlotte does not ask for compassion, but her prospect is amelancholy one. Her home, housekeeping, her parish and poultry have not yet lost their



charms. Not yet. Neither is it a comforting later little note to hear that Mr. Collins's dearCharlotte is expecting a young olive branch. She no doubt will do the best she can, but thechildren of mismatches without respect or affection do not begin life with advantage.

With her eyes open Charlotte has miscalculated, because there are no fair chances of happiness in an inequality that makes affection impossible. Elizabeth's father can advise hischild of this. Like Jane, Mr. Bennet may be mistaken in his facts but not in his principle whenhe warns Elizabeth to think better before having Mr. Darcy. He knows she cannot be happy orrespectable unless she esteems her husband, that an unequal marriage would put her indanger, perhaps discredit and misery. "My child, let me not have the grief of seeing youunable to respect your partner in life." He and his daughter know the living experience thatspeaks in these words. Captivated by youth and beauty and the appearance of good humorthey generally give, he had married a woman whose weak understanding and illiberal mind"had very early in their marriage put an end to all real affection for her." The results havebeen before the reader since the first chapter and before Elizabeth, with less amusement andmore pain, all her life. She has felt strongly the disadvantages that must attend the children of so unsuitable a marriage, and Lydia's disaster has confirmed her judgment. Lydia's affair is,for one thing, what can happen to the child of a marriage without affection. It is, for another,itself an instance of a marriage where neither person is capable of affection. "Her affectionshad been continually fluctuating" and it required only encouragement for her to attach herself to him in particular. His fluctuations have been apparent to Elizabeth from personalexperience; his affection for Lydia, just as Elizabeth had expected, is not equal to hers for himand it is only in fulfillment of the obvious that we hear at the end how "His affection for hersoon sunk into indifference." His last private conversation with Elizabeth, in which she makesembarrassingly clear that she knows all about him, ends as he kisses her hand "withaffectionate gallantry, though he hardly knew how to look": a very pretty touch that leaves hisaffection exposed for what it is in a shallow and losing gesture. But, furthermore, the affectionof Lydia's Wickham was once something that interested Elizabeth for herself, so that her ownunderstanding of the meaning of affection has not always been what it is at last; it has takentime. If Charlotte Lucas thinks time is unimportant because affection is unimportant, Elizabethhas flirted with another mode in which time is unimportant because affection is so quicklyseen. Lydia's affair helps her sister to better understanding.

The validity of the marriage between Darcy and Elizabeth is established by the time in which

their affection grows, and by the capacity of the affection to withstand and to be strengthenedby the proofs of time and crisis. Elizabeth is certain that the immediate effect of Lydia'sdisgrace will be that her own power with Darcy must sink, that everything must sink undersuch a proof of family weakness; it makes her understand her own wishes, and never has sheso honestly felt how much she could have loved him as now when all love is vain. The whole of their acquaintance, as she can now review it, has been full of contradictions and varieties andshe sighs at the perverseness of her own feelings, which have so changed. In the mode of romance Elizabeth's change is unreasonable or unnatural in comparison with the regard thatarises on a first interview and even before two words have been exchanged; but she had given"somewhat of a trial" to this "method" with Wickham and its ill-success might perhapsauthorize her to try the other "less interesting mode of attachment." The ironic languagesounds like the language of experimental method, and it is that, in the sense of testedexperience of common life as opposed to romantic prejudice, but the reality here is the realityof tired emotions. "If gratitude and esteem are good foundations of affection"—and the

hypothesis has been tried by Elizabeth's mind and emotions —then the change of sentimentwill be "neither improbable nor faulty."

Henry Tilney had come to be sincerely attached to Catherine Morland, he felt and delighted inall the excellences of her character and "truly loved" her society, but, as we know, "hisaffection originated in nothing better than gratitude." That may be a new circumstance inromance, but not in common life. "Gratitude" here is the response to the feeling of another,the natural obligation in return for having been thought worthy of being loved. It was this thatled Fanny Knight into her mistake with her young man, whose powerful charm was that hewas the first young man to attach himself to her. John Gregory, giving fatherly advice to his



daughters, warns them that what is commonly called love among girls is rather gratitude andpartiality to the man who prefers them to the rest of the sex, so that such a man they oftenmarry with little personal esteem or affection. But the difference between Fanny Knight or Dr.Gregory's daughters and what happens to Elizabeth Bennet is the difference between theyoung miss and the woman who knows the meaning of affection. In the one the gratitude isthe first pleasing stir of a self-love that confuses its object, in the other it is the feeling thatinitiates a self-discovery. The feeling develops if, as with Darcy, there is a continuingrevelation of a character whose actions build more powerful causes of gratitude and if, as withElizabeth, there is a continuing increase of a character who can perceive and respond to thatrevelation. Elizabeth's gratitude develops in a heightened vision of him, and in a properlychastened revision of her self-love. That irony, the coolness and detachment of her language,as she recollects how she has arrived at her present feelings by the less interesting mode of attachment, is directed not at her feelings but at herself. She sees in her affection thecomplicated history of herself. The slow preparation of the foundations creates for an affectionits depth of interest and is the guarantee of its reality of meaning in a life. Four months earlierat his declaration of how ardently he admired and loved her she had not been willing to grantDarcy even the conventional gratitude: "In such cases as this, it is, I believe, the establishedmode to express a sense of obligation for the sentiments avowed, however unequally theymay be returned. It is natural that obligation should be felt, and if I could feel gratitude, Iwould now thank you. But I cannot—I have never desired your good opinion." Now she knowsby extended experience what his good opinion is worth and what the value of his affection is.Having seen him at Pemberley in a new light, an amiable light, there was then above all,above the respect and esteem, another motive within her, the gratitude she felt for his love of her. It was gratitude not merely for his having loved her, but for loving her still well enough toforgive the petulance and acrimony of her manner in rejecting him and forgive all her unjustaccusations. A man who had reason to be her enemy has been eager to preserve heracquaintance, solicit the good opinion of her friends, make her known to his sister. Such achange in such a man excites gratitude, for this is a man who knows something of love, of ardent love.

Furthermore, Darcy's response to the event which she fears has put an end to theiracquaintance then becomes the severest test of his affection. He arranges for the marriage of Wickham and her sister and he does it because of "his affection for her." At first she rebukesher vanity for putting so much dependence on the force of that affection, but she hasunderestimated it. It has remained unshaken, unchanged; when, at last, he can tell her of hisfeelings, they prove how important she has been to him, and they make "his affection everymoment more valuable." That is what enables her to answer her father's doubts of Darcy with"absolute certainty that his affection was not the work of a day, but had stood the test of many months suspense." She is "in the certain possession of his warmest affection

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Affection and the Amiable Man

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